


i was born in a crossfire hurricane

by feathertofly



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, rolling stones au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-12-04 03:24:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feathertofly/pseuds/feathertofly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's everything louis wants, to make someone feel like this song is making him feel right now, light and anchored and real for ten minutes. his guitar does that, and the boy laying next to him does. (a rolling stones au.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	i was born in a crossfire hurricane

**Author's Note:**

> a one direction au based on the life and times of the rolling stones. most of my knowledge of the band comes from the recent documentary crossfire hurricane and keith richards' autobiography, and a lifelong love of their music.  
> this is a complete piece for now, but i do have plans to write more in this verse. the stones have been a band for fifty years now so i don't see myself running out of source material. 
> 
> none of this is true, work of fiction, blah blah. though harry styles may actually be mick jagger's love child.

the flat is freezing cold, but it's nothing new. zayn is curled up on the couch as louis walks in, a cigarette tucked absentmindedly into his lips as he pulls a thread and needle through patches of fabric. louis raises one eyebrow at the fabrics, a dusky orange and a green he can only describe as puke. 

"fashion statement, mate?"

zayn doesn't even bother looking up, just mutters a half hearted "fuck you," and keeps focused on the patches that will no doubt end up on a vest or pair of pants. louis just shakes his head and drops the loaf of bread on the kitchen table. it isn't much, and with four starving boys they'll be lucky if it lasts a day, but their gigs are hardly paying enough for fine dining every day. louis tries not to think about the growl in his stomach and continues in the direction of the music drifting from bedroom he shares with harry.  
harry lies on the bare floor, head next to the record player that's playing the latest record from chuck berry. they'd bought it three days before and it's already sounding a bit worn down, hasn't been taken off the player since harry picked it up from the record shop down the street. louis leans against the door frame and allows himself a moment to take in the scene before him. 

harry is beautiful most of the time, that's not something anyone can argue, but this is when louis loves him best. he's completely caught up in the music, eyes closed and full lips parted, wet like he must've licked them moments before. his body is poetic in the way it's so carelessly thrown around, limbs stretched haphazardly and giving little twitches and shakes in time with the music. that familiar ache pulses somewhere in louis's chest, low and deep and it stays like that until he takes in a breath and harry hears him and opens his eyes. the smile that slides on his face is easy as anything, he doesn't say a word but beckons louis close with a crook of the finger. louis doesn't think twice, stretching out against harry until their bodies are tight against each other.

this, this louis knows. the feel of harry's leg pressed against his own is as familiar breathing. for as long as louis can remember it had been the two of them, living and breathing and sharing the same space as much as humanly possible. it had been the two of them, then they added james taylor, robert johnson, muddy waters. the boys has come later, zayn had found them with their heads buried in the chicago blues section of the record store. they'd heard niall drumming away on pots and pans in the kitchen of the pub they'd frequented and had immediately invited him to join. they'd found a flat that wasn't big enough for the four of them and had no heating, but it was theirs. besides, their dreams and music had always kept them warm.

when harry's voice breaks the silence finally, louis nearly flinches. this time that they spend like this, absorbing the music through the pores of their skin, it's sacred. no talking allowed. but when harry speaks, it sounds close enough to gospel for louis. 

"this is gonna be us, lou. we're gonna do it, you and me and them. you're gonna change the world, mate."

louis's heartbeat races a bit faster, but he can't reply. he shakes his head and pulls harry's hand into his own, laces their fingers together. it's everything he wants, to make someone feel like this song is making him feel right now, light and anchored and real for ten minutes. his guitar does that, and the boy laying next to him does. 

louis closes his eyes for a minute and lets himself imagine that he has it all, that the guitar propped up in the corner contains the magical power to give him everything he wants. 

\----------------------------------

the venue (fuck off, it's a venue in his head even if it's barely a six inch platform tucked into the back corner of a bar) is filled to the brim, people tucked in everywhere. one word whispered in the right ear can spread like wildfire, and zayn has always known which ears to whisper into. louis shoots him a glance through his too long fringe. zayn is staring in the dirty mirror in their bathroom-turned-dressing room, lip tucked between his teeth as he concentrates on pushing his quiff around just so. louis just shakes his head and laughs, wants to reach over and run his fingers through it's perfect shape, but it's too close to showtime, and zayn would probably actually lose his mind. 

harry is in the bathroom stall a few feet away, heaving like his guts are coming out. louis raps his knuckles against the metal.

"five minutes til we're up, haz, it's time."

"i can't, lou, you've gotta go on without me, i can't do it," harry's voice comes weakly through the stall door. niall looks worried for the first time, glancing up from his set list. zayn's eyes flash at louis as he gets up, fist raised to pound on the door and scream. louis presses a finger to his lips, pointing towards the door.

"i'll sort it out," he says in a low voice, "just go. get 'em warmed up before us real rock stars come out." 

zayn looks like he wants to protest, but niall throws an arm around his shoulder and pulls him out towards the door. louis turns back to the stall, presses his cheek against the cool metal. 

"haz, come on, mate, you've got this." there's no response, so he keeps going. harry's nerves are going to be the death of him, louis is sure, but there's no band without the lead singer and lead guitarist so the rest of them can wait a fucking minute. 

"harry, this is it, come on, you're perfect. let them hear you, you want this so much, it'll be so fucking good, just come out, come on..."

he hardly knows what he's saying anymore, just making soothing sounds until he hears harry's breathing even out. the door opens slowly and harry peeks out from under his curls, looking slightly ashamed at louis having to coax him out. louis smiles and pulls him in, letting harry bury his face in louis's neck. harry presses his lips to the tender skin there, and when he feels the shiver louis can't hold stop he pulls back and grins. 

"shall we, then?" 

if harry's nerves don't kill him, louis thinks idly as he follows the boy out towards the screams and steady pounding of niall's drums, that mouth will.

\------------------------------

it starts out as nothing. 

"of course i love the covers, you know i do," zayn argues. "but what i'm saying is, why not try some original stuff? we've got things to say, why not use our own words instead of somebody else's? we could be more than what we are right now."

they're drunk and laugh him off, but none of them forget. louis thinks about it so much he doesn't sleep for days. niall brings it up in almost every time they rehearse, throwing fancy rhythms in nearly every song, as if trying to show them that he has what it takes. harry doesn't say anything, but there's a new light in his eyes. they've all thought about it before, dreamed about it before, but as soon as the idea comes out of zayn's mouth it's like a spell, captivating all of them.

it's got to be nearly two on a sunday morning when louis jolts awake at the pressure of a body straddled across his. he blinks sleepily awake to see harry staring down at him with wide, serious eyes. his face is half in shadow, the moonlight streaming in from the window hitting him just so to illuminate his full lips and long, dark lashes. 

"is this... do you..." harry bites his lip as he tried to find his words, and louis fists his hands in the sheets to keep from reaching up to touch. "is this something that you want, louis?" 

louis doesn't even know what he's talking about, but the answer to anything harry has offered has always been the same. 

"yeah, hazza, it is."

harry nods very solemnly and leans down to press a kiss to louis's temple, and then is gone and back to his own bed. louis can't help but feel like he'd just made a deal with the devil himself. 

\------------------------------

deciding to be a real band is all very good in theory, but the practicalities - coming up with a name, finding an agent, writing songs - are about a million times harder than louis has expected.

he's sitting in a circle with the three other boys for a fourth night in a row, a joint making its way from mouth to mouth lazily in an attempt to pull something creative out of them. zayn's face is scrunched up as he stares at the paper in front of him, as if he can intimidate the music into existence. louis would laugh at him, but it's not like he's producing anything brilliant either.

finally niall throws his hands up in the air in exasperation. 

"right, i'm a drummer, i know fuck all about musical notes and pretty words. i can count to four and that's about it. i'm out." 

he gets up, pulling zayn with him. harry moved to stop them, but louis puts a hand on his shoulder. 

"no one's going to make magic on an empty stomach, harry. let 'em be." 

harry groans and runs a hand over his face, but doesn't try to stop them again. when the door slams shut he rolls over to look at louis. 

"is this," he starts slowly, "i mean have we... can we do this, louis?"

louis doesn't respond right away, just looks at harry. he thinks about the first time he saw his best friend, green eyes shining with tears as one of their teachers rapped her ruler against his knuckles for not playing with the other children. he hadn't let himself cry, though, fists clenched tight as his side. louis had known even then, at the tender age of seven, that he wanted to be around the side of someone so brave. he'd hoped to take some of that bravery for himself. 

and that's it. louis reaches over for his guitar and plays. it's a simple melody, only a few notes, but it's something. he doesn't bother looking down at the guitar, just keeps his eyes focused on harry and keeps strumming. once he thinks he has it down, he hums along. harry's eyes get wider and he sits up, straining to listen closer to the chords and then humming along. 

by the time zayn and niall return from the pub, harry and louis are up on their feet. louis can feel the laughter bubbling up in his throat, giggling like a schoolgirl as harry belts out the words they'd scribbled on the back of the electricity bill. his arms flail and hips are shaking with the beat, and louis can see it now, harry on stage, lit up like a fucking christmas tree. he can't help himself, usually lets harry stick to the vocals but he joins in at the chorus with a harmony that just feel right, "but this time it's different, darling, you'll see..."

\--------------------------------

"but why would we need a fifth?" zayn's halfway to pissed already, but louis is quite sure that even slobbering drunk this is a concept that would be easy enough to understand. 

"vocals, lead guitar, rhythm guitar, bass, drums," harry explains patiently.

"oi," niall cuts in, "you mean drums, vocals, guitar one, two, so on." 

harry rolls his eyes, but doesn't argue. 

"fine," zayn finally concedes, "but where the hell are we going to find someone good enough to play with us that's willing to play second string to tommo?"

and in one of those moments that make louis question his atheism, liam payne quite literally falls into zayn's lap. 

"oh my -shit, i'm so sorry! oh no, i've gone and said- oh well, anyways, sorry."

louis can't help the irritation that slips in, but zayn looks mesmerized. 

"s'okay," he finally mumbles, pushing the boy out of his lap. they get a good look at him and then, yeah, louis can see what zayn sees. a mop of curly brown hair, strong arms, a mole on the side of his neck that zayn clearly wants to scrape his teeth over. louis can't blame the boy for swallowing loudly and then excusing himself. 

"i'm needed on stage, i'd better - sorry again, i should just - right," he says with a nod and then turns towards the stage. the four of them watch with interest as he cilmbs up and picks up his guitar, sliding on a pair of wayfarers. they should be pretentious, it's half nine at night and the sun has been gone for hours, but as soon as they fit on his face, all of the nervous energy seems to slide right out of him. he leans into the microphone and even his voice sounds different, smoky and deep. 

"hope everyone's alright, i'm liam payne, your entertainment for the evening." 

and then he shreds it. 

the way liam's fingers glide over the fretboard, how he seems to coax the notes out instead of forcing them, it's magic. 

"i want him," harry mutters, low into louis's ear, "he's for us." 

louis can only nod. this is it, it's what they've been waiting for. the final puzzle piece. 

it takes two pints and some rather intense flattery, but an hour after liam's set ends he's climbing up the impossibly long set of stairs to their flat and making himself at home in the couch. 

"this is it, harry," louis whispers across the dark room. the energy is buzzing around the five of them so strongly it had taken forever to get everyone settled and in bed, and even now louis would bet not one of them is asleep. 

louis hears the grin in harry's voice when he replies, "i feel it too, lou, it's here. this is it."


End file.
